The Hand That Rocks the Cradle

Did you watch Hillary Clinton at the DNC? I did. I am so, so, so incredibly happy. She will be our next President--and, better yet, that legacy will ripple outward for the next several centuries at least. She'll get her biographies and her memorials and her library. She'll be in every history book in America from that point forward. She'll be the first woman president ever. Ever. That's huge.

And it's about fucking time, too.

So that was the evening. I cried big, happy tears because our next president is going to be a woman. I'm glad it's a woman that I like and respect. And as far as all those who are standing on the wrong side of history at this moment, poised to vote for her hateful, misogynistic, racist opponent, the history books will vindicate her, and in the future, historians will remark that our society was once so sexist and misogynistic that it was a thing of wonder to most people of our times that a woman was elected president. One day, it will be the most common of things for a woman to be the leader of the free world.

Here's a poem for you:

The Hand That Rocks the Cradle Is the Hand That Rules the World

Blessings on the hand of women!
Angels guard its strength and grace,
In the palace, cottage, hovel,
Oh, no matter where the place;
Would that never storms assailed it,
Rainbows ever gently curled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.

Infancy's the tender fountain,
Power may with beauty flow,
Mother's first to guide the streamlets,
From them souls unresting grow—
Grow on for the good or evil,
Sunshine streamed or evil hurled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.

Woman, how divine your mission
Here upon our natal sod!
Keep, oh, keep the young heart open
Always to the breath of God!
All true trophies of the ages
Are from mother-love impearled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.

Blessings on the hand of women!
Fathers, sons, and daughters cry,
And the sacred song is mingled
With the worship in the sky—
Mingles where no tempest darkens,
Rainbows evermore are hurled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.

---William Ross Wallace 

So there's that.

Earlier in the evening, there was a trip to Costco for various things.

Earlier than that, there was studying and napping.

Earlier, there was lunch with my aunt at one of those Brazilian places where they stuff you with meat until you have to waddle out the door.

Earlier, there was too little sleep.

The semester ends in six days and today we bought train tickets and emailed to rent a small cabin on a farm across from Rocky Ridge, Laura and Almanzo Wilder's farm. We're really going!